


Cohesion

by contronym



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-30 02:45:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15087290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/contronym/pseuds/contronym
Summary: noun1.  The action or fact of forming a united whole.2.  Molecular attraction of two or more substances by which the particles of a body are unitedKorra learns the hard way; no matter how powerful, a machine is nothing but a sum of all its parts.[A (mostly) TV canon-compliant retelling of Korra’s reverence for our favorite industrialist.]





	Cohesion

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know what i'm doing. proceed at your own risk.

Your first experience in this world, is dying before you are born.

 

It doesn’t make much sense - at this point, nothing really can.  Still, it is clear as anything.

As terrifying, as anything.

 

There was a before, to all this life and death disruption.  A peaceful naïveté, simplicity enveloped in radiance and warmth and a suggestion that this is all there ever would be.

But that was  _the_ _before_.  Before the drumming, or the pounding, or the reverberation that rouses your consciousness.  This beat rattles your reverie - a pulse both racing and ceasing, booming and diminishing. A thunderous announcement of everything moving way too fast and far too slow.

Disparate rhythms eventually meet somewhere in the middle, momentarily merging before the weaker of the two trails into an eerie silence. Then comes something even more unfamiliar.  Maybe it is fullness - which, like the rest of this event, is perfectly and oddly novel. You were unaware you were ever empty. But the phenomenon stops as soon as it starts - _too_ soon, your mind grasping desperately for the sensation of all finally being as it should.

“We will meet again.”

Your unrest comes with a flurry of endless unknowns, yet you find yourself fixated on one wondering.

 

_When._

 

"As soon as you are ready, _Avatar.”_

 

The address settles around you, embedding itself like something you have known all along; a perfect fit, blessing, and burden, all at once.

You don’t wonder what this is, or where you are.  You don’t inquire how this has all happened. You don’t even question their knowing so pointedly _who_ you are, or what you are, and how such an assertion leads you to feel so unequivocally assured.

 

And you never get a chance to ask.

 

* * *

 

The tail-end of your first cold season, on a night long and chilled and blustery, forms your earliest memory of blizzard bending.  

Winds howl outside, snow and ice battling for territory over your kitchen.  With a single arm, your father lifts and squeezes you tightly against his frame, his other hand stretching towards the storm that has permeated the hide flaps covering the windows.

“Don’t be scared.”

The same flurry, paralyzing you moments ago, now morphs to his will, its power combining with his own, each direction and intention a captivating demonstration of control.  

"I’ve got you.”  His voice rumbles amidst the commotion.  “I'll never let you go."

 Chi ripples through his chest, and a euphoria through yours, as he bends and you bear witness.  And while you don’t realize it now, this becomes something that you will always know as a beautiful, mystical magic that feels exactly like home.

 

* * *

 

During your first hunting ceremony, the moment you scramble out of your mother’s hood, you are surrounded by music, dancing, and a celebration of much more than just the hunt itself.

 

> “Tonraq didn’t mention he was finally bringing his _daughter_!”
> 
> “We haven’t even seen her since the naming ceremony!”
> 
> “Would you _grown ups_ get out of the way?  The rest of us want to meet her, too!”

 

You see a lot of faces - some young and some old, some familiar and some not - but all warm.  All love.

There is a feast, laughter, and so much community that the night feels like it will never end.  The adults tell you how much you look like your mother, while the teenagers are impressed with how strong you are when you throw snowballs.  You convince the other, younger children to start a kneel jump tournament, you even leading one of the teams, until your parents finally direct you to say goodnight, and move to load up the sled with your family’s share of the haul.

As you put on your coat, an elder tribesman approaches you, slowly and carefully.

“I saw you, all of you playing,” he says, you turning to look to him.  “That one there -- the tall one -- is my grandson.”

“Wow!” you exclaim, recognizing the boy.  “He is a really good jumper!”

“Yes.  But you are better,” he insists, now standing right in front of you.  “You must be Senna and Tonraq’s child.”

You nod, grinning at the mention of your parents.

“That explains it,”  He smiles down on you, leaning heavily on his cane.  “I am so glad that I got to meet you, before it is my time.”

“Your bedtime?”  You ask, yawning.  “It’s way past mine, too.”

He laughs, wide-mouthed and unrestrained.  “Something like that.” He looks up to the sky, so you do, too, always eager to see whatever the elders see.  “I don’t think I’d ever have enough time, anyway. To explain the joy and peace it brings me, knowing that our people get to support and shape you.  That _you_ are one of _us_ , Korra.”

“Us?”  You question curiously.

“The people of the tundra.”  He looks to you then. “We are _your_ people.”

 

With that, he says goodnight, leaving you to the stars, and surrounded by snow and children and elders and magic.  And this too, you realize, will always feel _exactly_ like home.

 

* * *

 

The first time you remember someone bending away your pain, you are a blubbering mess.  

 

"Sweetie, did you hurt yourself?"

 _Sniffle_.  "...no."

Your mother kneels beside you with a smile.

 _Louder sniffle_.  "...yes."

 

"Come here."

 

Carefully avoiding the small, fresh, oozing scrape, she takes your arm and guides you to the side of the healing basin.  She directs a warm stream of water along the abrasion, delivering a unique, comforting relief.

"Why didn't you want to tell me?"

“Because…”  Your face scrunches up, before you blurt out, "Because I’m tough!"

"Oh, honey."  The words wrap around you and strip away your defenses, and you whine. "You _are_ tough, paniga.  But even tough people get hurt, and need help, sometimes."   She continues tending gently to the wound, the fiery sensation finally dulling.  "I don't want you to ever think you can't come to us for help."

When she seals the cut with a kiss, you ask through one last, tearful shudder, "All better?"

Laughing softly, she pulls you into her lap.  "No. Even if it looks healed, most things that hurt take time to get over.  But admitting that you were scared, telling me that you are hurt _,_ is very brave of you, and very important. That is the only way I can help you."

She holds you close, hand clasped over the injury, her thumb running along your skin soothingly.

"Will it make a scar?"

"Maybe.  But that is okay.  Scars mean that you overcame something that tried to take your strength."

You grip her shirt tightly, curling your legs into her side.

"You are on your way, Korra.  You won't be as good as new - you will be even better.   I am sure of it."

 

* * *

 

The first time you remember your mom bending your _dad_ back to health, is shortly after your own painful stumble.

“Like father, like daughter,” your mother mutters, shaking her head.  She tenderly wipes blood from his head, before refilling the healing basin.  “Korra fell this morning. Trying to ‘be a warrior’ inside the house, again.”

You show off your injury, your father’s one unswollen eye growing wide.  “Mom even said it will make a scar!”

“Seems your hunters have made quite the impression on her already...” she says under her breath, “for better or worse.”

“She’s lucky to have you for a mom, then,” he laughs through gritted teeth.  “Seeing as you’re tougher than the lot of us.”

You look upon her, then - your mother, who sews your ripped clothing, crafts fishing holes through ice sheets, sings you lullabies, and bends with a prowess and precision that compels even your own father’s broad, battered body to comply.  Your mother, who has never given anyone reason to doubt the strength of a woman who bends with the sole purpose to heal. And you realize that your dad must be right.

 

You _are_ pretty lucky.

 

* * *

 

The first time you witness your father’s influence across your tribe, you are in the middle of one of your favorite games.

 

With your arms and legs stretched as far as they can reach, your father holds you high above his head.  “The hog puffin gains speed, zooming over the ocean!” He runs around the house that has temporarily become the entire universe, while the floor transforms into water, the table a snowbank, your bed a cavern, and you a single bird of the many clouds.  And with each turn, you imagine you have never been so happy to be a hog puffin.

“Oh no!  There’s an iceberg in your flight path,” he exclaims, pointing towards your mother, who rolls her eyes.  “It’s too big to fly over - brace yourself!”

Bending ice through the window, he creates a low, frozen slide, before plopping you on top.  Gliding on your belly over the makeshift bridge, your mother catches you when you reach the end, laughter across her face.  “I’m afraid this hog puffin needs to land. Someone is knocking.”

Removing the slide with a wave of his fingers, your father throws you a wink, before he opens the door.  

 

“Battuq.  This is a surprise.”

“Ainngai, friends.”  You recognize him immediately -- from your father’s hunting party, and as a somewhat regular house guest, as many members of the tribe are -- as he removes his hat, gripping it in his hands politely.  “I was hoping I could discuss something with you. A matter that I fear is getting out of hand, and will soon affect all of the South, if left unaddressed.”

“Well, that sounds rather serious,” your mom comments.  “Please come in, Battuq.”

“Ma'na, ma'na.”  He makes his way inside, and under the light, you can finally see lines forming deep against his face.  “I’m sorry to intrude, please go on and dry Korra’s furs.”

 

Typically they would request you to sit by the fire, allowing you every opportunity to learn about the relationship between water and ice and fire and heat, and the power they have over one another _without_ bending such forces to your will.  But this time your parents only nod thankfully, waterbending your outfit dry before Battuq continues with a sigh.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but civil unrest has erupted near the Palace.”

“I will admit, I’ve heard of some recent dissension in regards to the Northern governance, but I imagine you are here to inform me it’s worsened.”

“That’s one way to put it, yes.”  

 

They talk long into the night.  Your bedtime - when the sixth star shines - comes and goes, but your parents are so distracted that you have managed to sneak in more than a few rounds of bone puzzles.

“Have you spoken to Katara about this?”

“Yes, and rather frankly.  She acknowledges the unease, and has voiced her desire for the reinstatement of a regional, Southern tribal chief.  Unfortunately, she remains relatively inaccessible for moons at a time. And we don’t foresee her trips to Republic City growing any shorter, or becoming any less frequent.”  

“So you need someone else to field their concerns in order to maintain some peace,” your mother concludes.

Battuq groans and looks away.  “I hate to even come here, sincerely -- you are a treasured and honorable hunter for us, Tonraq, and the people admire your abilities, and wish to confide in you given your unique relation to the Water Tribe leadership.  They believe you might actually be able to speak for the South, and manage to be heard. But I also recognize that this is not a position you ever aspired to be in, considering your complicated ties to the Northern Chief, and the fact that you’re now raising a marvellous little girl.”  He smiles at you warmly, to which you beam back. “As you all know, I have my own -- Amka.  I understand how hard it is to consider getting involved in something as compromising as this.”

Your father looks to your mother, and though her hands wring the dishrag, she nods to him firmly.  

“I know it is a difficult time.  We will do this as we do all things, Battuq.  Together.” He claps his shoulder, and for the first time, the lines on the stranger’s face smooth out.  “I will travel to town after the next hunt, and see if I can offer any reassurance to those concerned.”

“Thank you, Tonraq, and Senna.  I truly believe that will make a difference.”

“I hope so,” your father admits.

“It’s late now, Battuq,” your mother observes.  “You are welcome to stay here - take Korra’s bed, she will sleep with us.”

Battuq releases a large sigh.  “I appreciate that, thank you again.”  He finally sets his bag down, turning to you with an apologetic smile. “Looks as though I’ve disrupted your night, _and_ I’ll be borrowing your bed.  Do you mind?” he asks. You shrug, as this certainly isn't the first time people from the tribe have dropped in and stayed, and he looks to the ground thoughtfully.  “How about, when your father comes into town, I’ll make sure to give him a brand new bone puzzle, just for you.  In return for your hospitality.”

You happily nod, causing him to nod back - to you, and your parents.

 

“We all have a deal then.”

 

* * *

 

You are awoken in the morning by the sound of ruffling.  Rubbing your eyes, you sit up, finding the sun barely awake, too. Rolling to the side, you can make out Battuq kneeling to pack his belongings in the almost-dark.

He may have had a few words with your parents last night, but still, in the creeping light from the window, you can see his face scrunched with worry.  And so, half asleep, you clamber over your mother, out of bed, and throw yourself against Battuq’s side in a tight hug.

He startles, turning to you with wide eyes, but immediately wraps a single arm around you in thanks.  You aren’t sure how long the embrace lasts, but when you finally let go, your father is standing and watching beside you.

“We won’t forget what you’ve done for us,” Battuq promises you both, before returning to the tundra.

 

* * *

 

The first time you ask about your mother’s marks, you sit nestled against her in the wash basin, while she helps you rinse your hair.  As you focus on the strength in the hands that scrub you clean, your nail seeks the ridge of the ink lining her legs.

 

“What are these for?” you ask, tracing the designs over and over against her skin, your hand running along her thigh, her knee.

“It’s a custom, when we carry life.  We want to make sure,” she answers easily, bending more water over your head.  “That the first thing our children see, when they are born, is beautiful.”

You look on with awe.  “Did it hurt?”

“Yes,” she confirms.

“Then why did you get them?”

“I loved you,” she reminds you, pausing to run her fingers through your hair, leaning your head back to kiss it.  “I love you.”

 

Thinking of the endless, white blanket of the tundra, the brightness of the stars when they feel so close that you could touch them, and the distant howl of polar bear dogs on the move, your palm grazes the raised, scarred skin of your mother, strong and familiar.  And you realize - you have been surrounded by beauty your entire life.

 

* * *

 

The first time you talk to Katara, you are hardly taller than a koala-otter.   

 

She visits to discuss healing techniques with your mother, though they cover other topics, too, really complicated and grown-up stuff.  

 

(“You know Sokanna, from up North?”

“Yes, I’ve seen her work.  Such a talented jeweler.”

“Well, her eldest went missing many moons ago.  Unfortunately lost to a blizzard while hunting with his father and brother.”

“That’s terrible -- Noatak, wasn’t it?  I imagine the ceremony of passing has already occurred, though I’d still like to offer a gift, if you will be visiting her in light of the news.”

“Even belated, I believe that would help settle her spirits.”)

 

At the conclusion of the exchange, she issues your parents farewell.  Spotting you, though, as you finally crawl out from the bed, she unexpectedly freezes to serve you a fixed stare.  Not unsettling - but not wavering either.

 

“How you've grown.”

 

Breaking the standstill, you run to grasp her hand firmly.  Your mother looks on curiously as you tow the bending master through the hut, pointing out every nook and cranny, excited to share with her this place you call home.

"Korra, release Katara from your clutches.  She has seen the house before,” your father chides, laughing heartily.

You exclaim a surprised, “Oh!” before turning back to Katara and admitting, "I’m excited you’re here.  _Really_ excited."  You continue to grip her hand eagerly.  "Come back and visit me, okay? Let’s go penguin sledding!"

She squeezes your palm back gently, in a way that makes you feel like you’re in on some grand secret.

 

"Sounds perfect."

 

* * *

 

"Do you sell any bedding?"

 

The first time your mother negotiates with the Shu Jing trader, his eyebrows rise in inquiry.

"I am interested in the fire resistant material, if you have any in your inventory."

Tonraq questions your mother’s bizarre purchase, seeing as Fire Nation bedding has no notoriety for insulation, normally the biggest draw for linens in the Southern Water Tribe.

 

She shrugs as easily as he concedes.

 

* * *

 

There is something mesmerizing about traveling the most remote regions of the tundra, you curled into your mother’s hood, watching how each of her steps marks the first and probably last impressions into the powder -- how each footfall seems to dive into the earth, leaving a delicate, lonely trail in her wake. 

And there is something even more inestimable about the moment when that trail becomes less lonely -- when the first of other fleeting footprints begin to appear, your mother grateful to imitate the gait of a ghost, preserving precious energy as she carefully follows the pre-paved divots.

You don’t remember the first time your mother lifts you from her own hood, only to place you into another’s, but you know that is exactly what lies at the end of this excursion.  That, as you squirm with anticipation, you will be met with warm smiles and warm hands and warm hearts that don’t feel nearly as far from you as the tundra’s expanse suggests they are.  That you will soon be brought to the ground only to run into homes you could navigate blindfolded, and arms that belong to extra siblings, cousins, grandparents -- extra _everything_ \-- ready to embrace you when you show up, and wave you off as you leave.  That you will play and laugh with the children your age, and be held and coddled by the older ones, and be mentored and cherished by all the adults that you don't exactly call mom or dad, but -- based on how they love you -- no one would ever know the difference.  And you know that everyone comes to your house too, sometimes, their own parents trudging through the snow to meet your family's footsteps, making your house fuller for a few moons the same way you do theirs.

 

When your mother eventually returns for you, you and your contented exhaustion are transferred back to her hood with great care and kind spirits.  And as you watch your mother retrace her own steps through the tundra, you find yourself incredibly lucky, to be part of a people and a place that will always give you so much more than you will ever understand.

 

* * *

 

This first time you see your mom off to conduct a rescue mission alone, the air sounds with alarm, white currents seizing away the horizon.

 

Typically unfazed by the weather - you have been taught to respect rather than fear wind and snow and storms - _this_ time, your parents actually look worried, as your mother prepares to follow a nearby distress call. 

“Probably somebody caught up in the blizzard,” your father observes, retrieving her boots.  “There was a hunting squad heading that way, yesterday." 

“As well as a family of hungry polar bear dogs,” your mother adds.  “Seems it doesn’t matter how many warnings Yue sends us, when we are determined to ignore them.”

The storm bellows again, forcing the house to tremble.  

“I need to get going, before they are completely buried.”

“Lemme come!”  You jump enthusiastically, already reaching for your parka, but your parents are unconvinced.

“Not this time, Korra.  This storm is too unpredictable and dangerous.”  Your father opens the door as your mother pulls the hood over the top of her head 

“If it’s so dangerous, then why are _you_ going out there?”

“Because they are our people, they need help, and --”

“I can help you find them!”

“You can help _us_ by staying home, and waiting for this storm to pass,” your father insists assertively.

“I will be back before you know it.”  Your mother promises, kissing your head.  “I love you so much,” she reassures, before closing the door behind her.

 

* * *

 

When she leaves, first you pout, and make a big show of it.  But after waiting _eons_ , you are unable to resist confronting your dad with persistence.

 

“Dad.”

“No.”

“Daaaaaaad.”

“Noooooooo.”

You tug his parka and plead, “Can I at least be lookout?”

He sighs with a resignation that is becoming more and more familiar to you.  “Fine. But wear your coat - if you get sick, your mom will end me before the incoming blizzard has a chance to.”

 

With one quick hug around his legs, you race to lift a hide flap from over the window, peeking out with determined purpose into the snowy abyss.  As you peer out at the perimeter of your home, you are tempted to arm yourself with your sturdy fishing spear - a gift from your father - just to look _really_ official, though you doubt he would approve of you marching about with it inside.

He never needs a spear like yours, of course, instead effortlessly drawing fish to the surface, and bending icy arrowheads.  He crafted the tool specially for you, allowing you the opportunity to learn the delicate cycle of the tundra, and the responsibilities of being a hunter.  So you could understand what it means, to pull from the earth or the sky or the sea a life what never belonged to you, knowing the universe will request it all back, in time and in balance.

 

So far, your rescue mission has proven unsuccessful.  Wind can be more dangerous than the cold itself, and the gusts are only picking up speed - more than once you are forced to drop the hide flap, wiping snowflakes from your eyelashes to prevent them from sticking together.  

Begrudgingly, you begin to give up on your rogue operation, propping your head on crossed arms, balanced over the window sill facing your mother’s fishing hole.  Utterly distracted by such defeat, absolutely _nothing_ prepares you for a small paw careening through the breach.  You stumble back from the window in surprise, looking with a determined focus.

“Dad, dad!”  You exclaim, him pointing to the window.  “ _Something’s_ out there!”

He lifts the hide flap himself, looking through the window with curiosity, before shaking his head.  “Korra, it’s admirable that you want to help...but,” he gestures to the snow, “No matter how hard you look, you can’t force anything from the tundra.  Not even trouble.”

He returns to repairing his leather wrap, while you pull up the hide flap once more and all but lean outside the window, snowflakes catching in your hair.  Suddenly, right before your eyes, a paw re-emerges through the opening. Before you even realize, _you_ are throwing open the door and charging outside, trudging boldy against both the snow and your father’s orders.

 

Racing to the edge of the fishing hole, you are now _sure_ it is a paw, black claws trying and failing to establish a grip against the icy surface.  When you finally lean over the opening, you find yourself face to face with none other than a young, wide-eyed polar bear-dog being carried by the current, its entire body slamming against the underside of the ice.  The cub struggles to stay afloat, its claws now barely embedded in an unstable chunk of ice. But what is even more surprising (and scary) is what you see _beneath_ the exhausted cub - a full grown mother, fighting to push the pup above water.

You _are_ scared.  Terrified, even, instantly regretting your decision to be out at the onset of a storm, only to wind up alone with a creature twice your size.  But there is something much more frightening than all of that - a fear you don’t understand, that compels you to act on an instinct more powerful and insistent than retreating.

“Dad!”

Paws digging desperately for purchase against the ice sheet, the pup’s muzzle breaks the surface of the water, its jaw opening weakly to emit a desperate mewl, energy and will draining with each escape effort.  You know there isn't much time.

“ _Korra?”_ your father calls, sounding both angry and worried, from the window.

"Get out here, dad!  Hurry!”

You only hope he will be at the fishing hole in a matter seconds, given what you are about to do.

 

Compulsively, you grab fistfuls of the pup’s fur, and haul up with all of your strength.  You try to stabilize and yank, yet when a powerful current drags the beast away from you, you are forced over the opening, you now teetering on the same edge of submersion.  You hear your father cry your name as you throw your hands outward, flailing in a frantic attempt to catch yourself before landing in freezing, icy waters.

Instead, incredibly, you are met by an airborne stream - strong enough to send water, ice, you, _and_ the pup soaring into the air, harshly landing a few paces away.  The cub coughs violently, its limp frame crumpling upon impact. You quickly crawl and stare down the now gaping, asymmetrical fishing hole -- only to witness the grown polar bear dog’s final descent, swept away and trapped beneath the ice sheet for eternity.

 

And, for a split moment, you imagine a voice saying, " _Well done_ ," before it is drowned by the blizzard, too.

 

* * *

 

At first, your father looks as though he is about to burst - telltale anger and exasperation grip his face, while he holds you to his chest protectively, standing between you and the worn out pup.

“What just -- did you -- you could have be-- you aren’t _hurt_ , are you?!”  He fumbles over his words, alternating between pulling you so tight that you don’t think you can breathe, and running his hands over each of your bones to make sure you are still intact.  “What were you _thinking_ ?!  This is a _polar bear dog_ , Korra!  They need to be respected -- they could have killed you!”

"But dad, the baby is all alone!"  You lean out and point to the cub, exhausted from the fight for its life.

" _You_ were alone, _too_!”  Your father’s face has been a mix of emotions, but when he says this - for the first time you can remember - your father actually looks scared.  “You were alone with two _polar bear dogs_ , and you are still just an agna-urak."

 “No, I’m not.”  

 

The objection halts him, your father looking to you with concerned expectancy.  But you aren’t sure what else there is to say, your own head disagreeing with itself.  You are not _what,_ exactly?  Not little?  Not a girl? Not Korra?  Not completely?

At least you can say what you _do_ know.

 

"I’m a waterbender." 

"So that _is_ what that was?" he manages to inquire, awestruck.

You shrug against him.  "The cub was stuck under the ice.  I didn’t think I could get them out, but then I guess I...I was waterbending."

His voice hardly comes out above a whisper, "We always thought you might, just not so _soon_...and not to rescue the most impressive predator in the South."  

 

He is reluctant to let you go, but you remind him it is okay - that _you_ are okay - by pushing against his chest once more, and he finally complies.  He carefully sets you on top of the snow, as though you are about to break. 

Taking his hand, you walk him to the pup.  You reach out for the creature slowly, the animal hardly budging when you touch its cold fur.  

“We have to help.”  You bring his hand down to meet its head, the cub leaning into his warmth, before you brace your own hands defiantly against the pup’s white coat.  “Please, taataga?”

Raising his hand and dragging it across his eyes, he mutters, “Let’s get you both warm and dry.  Then we’ll see what your mother has to say."

 

You hug him joyfully, before he has a chance to change his mind.

 

* * *

 

"What else do you propose we do with an orphaned polar bear dog cub anyway?"

 

Your mom finally enters from outside, hair disheveled and cheeks red from the blizzard winds.  

"Well I certainly hesitate to suggest my own _family_ take her in.  She’ll need to be bottle-fed arctic camel milk, and taught to hunt, and --”

"And, if anyone _can_ handle her, it’s Korra.”

Your father's eyes roll, but a smile graces his face nonetheless, your mother touching his shoulder as you smile in victory.  “The elders will certainly want to have a say in all this.”

"Well, it’s not everyday that a paniga rescues a polar bear dog,” she says, finally bringing her hood from around her face.  “Besides, we need another strong girl around. Yue knows I'm not going to be able to keep up with our daughter much longer, especially if you throw bending in the mix.  Which..." Senna looks upon you, the same way she did when you speared your first fish. "Korra, wake that cub up.”

“Why, momma?”

“She’s had a tough day -- and we can all help her recover.  You will get your first lesson in healing,” your mother says, bending water into a basin. 

 

"Then, we _all_ have some celebrating to do."

 

* * *

 

Your family visits the elders pretty often, but the first time you do after after the arrival of a polar bear dog pup, they have a _lot_ to say about it all.

 

“There are few tales of this, and all from before the war.  But historically, our tribe has assumed responsibility for orphaned cubs, and raised them to adulthood,” says one elder to the council, stroking his beard.

“You must mean raised by _grown_ adults,” responds another, her hands planted on her knees as she sits.  “I’ve been around much longer than you, and for Korra to find, rescue, and care for one -- and for that sequence of events to reveal her a bender -- well, this is the first I’ve _ever_ heard of something like that.”

 

They look upon you and your family, your hands gliding over the cub’s white coat as she licks her paw.

 

“Korra,” calls one of the eldest elders - one that remembers much of the Hundred Year War, one that remembers a lot of history that you still have left to learn about.  You approach with a nod, the cub in tow, before she continues. “It has been a curiosity of mine, to see how Senna and Tonraq’s child will change the tribe.  Even at your age, you've made quite the impression, particularly among the other children.  But I must say, this is a most unexpected turn of events.”  She raises her hand to pup’s nose, allowing your new friend to sniff her before nuzzling her palm warmly. “I would like to know -- what compelled you to save this creature?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, hands out and palms up, with perfect honesty.  “I just couldn’t do anything else.”

The elders hum and nod, which is what they _always_ do, when they all know something that you don’t. 

 

“Her name’s Naga, by the way.”  You grin proudly. “She told me.”

“She told you?” the elder asks in surprise.

“Of course!”  You say with enthusiasm.  “I knew she’d have a name.”

“You weren’t inclined to name her yourself?”

“Name her?  Why?” Their suggestion puzzles you.  “She learned mine, I wanted to learn hers.”

You parents share a quick glance, while a few elders say something just under their breaths.  Finally, the matriarch elder addresses you again.

“You’ve done an incredible thing, Korra.”  She smiles, all lips and wrinkles, her eyes scrunching up.  “I believe I speak on behalf of the Southern Tribal Council, in saying that we not only give you permission to care for this delicate life, but we look forward to it.  And Naga,” she beckons, patting the pup’s head.

 

“Welcome to the tribe.”

 

* * *

 

The first time you earthbend, your father faints at the sight.

 

Naga is barreling through the house, participating a rowdy round of "fetch and go seek” - a game in which the cub chases after you and any other children playing at your house, and carries you all back to your bed, holding your shirt in her jowels, only for you to run away so she can come catch you again.  However, Naga miscalculates a critical turn and bumps into a small dresser supporting several family trinkets. It begins to wobble and sway, the heirlooms set atop it soon beginning their fall to an inevitable demise.

Your mother's eyes widen as your father rushes to catch the valuables cascading towards the floor.  Looking to avoid punishment for your newly designed game with your newly established best friend, you too dash toward the dresser, the soles of your feet slapping the stone floor with purpose.  You hear a deafening crash, and stop abruptly, reluctant to see the items splayed across the ground in pieces. But when you finally _do_ look upon the scene, you find the dresser leaning slightly against an unfamiliar stone pillar. And the trinkets balanced atop the dresser, entirely unscathed.

 

You hear two more crashes - your mother dropping a grown-up word and your father dropping - well, himself.

 

* * *

 

“The White Lotus are looking into some cases in the North, but they will arrive before upirngaaq, to meet us and Korra.”

"You know what this means, right?" Your father hushes to your mother in the dark of night.

"I know, Tonraq.  But this was never our decision, to be...honored, in such a way.”  Your mother concludes, “All I know is, maybe it is our daughter’s duty to protect everyone, but it will always be our privilege to protect _her_."

 

In the morning, you find your father asleep beside you, only partially covered by the threads of your baby blanket, traces of a nightmare playing across his face before you shake him awake.

 

* * *

 

The first time you land on Naga’s back, it is completely by accident, you having clumsily fallen from a large snow bank only to find your face planted in white fur.

You sit up quickly, spitting hair from your mouth, while Naga’s head goes still with alertness. 

“Naga, it’s just me!”  You say, rubbing her ears while you balance yourself.  “Let me just figure out how to get dow--”

Before you manage to finish, Naga’s back muscles twitch, and she takes off at a breakneck speed through the snow.

“Korra!” your mom calls anxiously, as your best friend zooms circles around your home, you hardly managing to hang on but you also loving _every_ minute of it.

When Naga finally stops, out of breath and exhausted, you take the opportunity to slide off.  Your heart is racing, and you still haven’t found a way to stop giggling.

Your mother sighs with audible relief, your father saying to her, “I don’t really know what else you were expecting,” before Naga crouches beside you -- low enough for you to climb _back_ on -- already excited to play your new game, again.

 

* * *

 

Your first lesson from a waterbending master comes as a surprise to everyone - even the master herself.

“I know the White Lotus will soon arrive to provide an official confirmation, but I wanted to congratulate you.  Personally." 

 

When you hear Katara’s voice, you rush to get up, but you’re buried in a pile of snow kicked up by your best friend - a pile that is only getting _bigger_.

“Naga, stop it!” you giggle, the cub panting happily.

“You trust we are right, then?” you hear your father ask.

“More than you could believe.”  

 

When you finally get a chance to scramble to level ground and call out Katara’s name, she waves fondly.  

“She will need guidance, of course - Senna and I have started to show her the basics of waterbending but we aren't really equipped to teach her everything she will need to know.”

She nods in understanding, reaching out to ruffle your hair.  “I’ve contacted my most esteemed and capable waterbenders, in confidence.  They will be discreet, but are already preparing to take on her training.”

“I’m sure whomever you appoint is more than capable -- thank you, Katara,” your father issues, though it contains what you have come to learn is disguised disappointment, like when you have forgotten to feed Naga, or to clean up your bone puzzle pieces.

 

“Now, show me, what’s the first thing a waterbender should do to stay dry?”  It takes a few tries, and you cause water to fly all over the place, but your furs are mostly dry when you are done.  You can’t help but grin with pride, causing Katara to smile and lift you up. “This is so exciting, Korra. I am only sorry that I am unable to take on your training myself.”

“That’s okay —as long as you penguin-sled with me, this time,” you negotiate.

“As though we haven’t been out here all morning,” your dad tuts without meaning it.  “Your call, Katara.”

“Let’s race!”  You persuade, wrapping your arms around her neck and toying with her betrothal jewelry.  

“She may have a long way to go with bending, but she appears to have already mastered this,” your father warns.  “Race at your own risk.”

“I want to go even faster!”  You exclaim giddily, “And I know you’re faster than my dad.”

She laughs genuinely, placing you down to roll back her sleeves.  

 

“Let’s find out _just_ how fast you can go.”

 

* * *

 

The first time Naga learns to hunt beside you, she is very eager to try, and you do your best to show her how it is done.

So far, your best friend has shown that she can learn almost anything, and has even taught your family a thing or two about surviving this tundra, her heightened senses and deeply embedded instincts proving useful in many unexpected ways.

But you quickly discover - there’s a lot more to this polar bear hunting thing than you thought.

 

“Mom, what do we do?” you ask, exasperated, as Naga returns from her latest in a line of failed pursuits, empty-pawed and disappointed.

Humming with understanding, your mom says, “I don’t think this is something we _can_ teach her, paniga.  But, I do have an idea.”

You mother gathers her coat and boots, nodding her head towards the tundra.

“Where are we going?”

 

“To the experts.”

 

* * *

 

The first time Naga learns to hunt beside another polar bear dog, she looks as uncoordinated and unpracticed as she is uncertain, galloping after prey without any success.

 

“I don’t know if this is working, either,” you say to your mom, both of you crouched and observing the beasts from a high snowbank.  The other polar bear dog is much more adept and skilled - they even _walk_ differently, paw pads barely grazing the snow before they pounce - and you start to wonder if Naga will _ever_ catch up.

"This polar bear dog has been here for several days, often howling -- I think she may be searching for her lost cub,” your mom relays, patiently.  “I wasn’t sure if they would tolerate each other, but Naga is smart and strong. She’s ready to learn, and the tundra is prepared to teach her. Look.”

 

You turn to find your best friend, attentively watching the other polar bear dog track a scent through the snow.  Determined, Naga puts her own muzzle to the ground, following the trail, stepping carefully so as to not disturb or tip off her prey.  When she reaches the other polar bear dog, the creature sniffs her curiously, before purposely stepping aside, allowing Naga a chance to pounce.

When Naga’s paws crash through the snow, your hands bunch into fists as you watch and hope, holding your breath and unable to even blink.

Your best friend resurfaces, shaking her head to dislodge the snow from around her face. Her jaws and claws are both empty, but her tongue hangs from her mouth with joy and pride, the other polar bear dog nudging her on to the next attempt.

 

“She almost had it!” you exclaim excitedly, and your mom laughs.

“Yes, but she’ll need a _lot_ more practice -- we are lucky this polar bear dog mom is around, but I don’t know how long that will be the case.  They cover a lot of ground, and she will soon travel many moons away.”

Your smile drops along with your hands and shoulders. “But she can’t go -- Naga needs her help!”

“It seems she does,” comments your mother, as Naga attempts and fails yet another hunt.

Your hands begin to sweat as you clench your fists without thinking.  “Should…” you start, hardly able to finish your question. “Should Naga go be with her?”

“That’s really up to Naga,” your mom explains, touching your shoulders lightly.  “For now, we will need to bring Naga to her, each day.  And prepare for the day when Naga may want to stay with her, for a really long time.”

“Long like, a moon or two?”

“No, honey -- long, as in, maybe forever.”

There’s a certain pressure behind your eyes, the mere thought of losing your best friend even more serious than discovering you are a bender.

You mom rubs your back, reminding you, “This may be the only way that Naga can learn how to be herself.”

You look to your best friend, learning and leaping and _happy_.  And you sniffle out the only answer you ever could.

 

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

 The first time Naga _does_ leave, you don’t think you will survive it.

 

The last thing you remember, is your best friend sticking her snout to the snow, and answering a distant howl before bounding off into the horizon.  And, even though your parents make your favorite Water Tribe dinner three nights in a row, and friends of all ages drop by to cheer you up, you _all_ miss her, and  _nothing_ relieves your loneliness, or fills the hole that Naga leaves behind.

 

To your great surprise, several moons later, there’s a distinct _yip_ at your door.  When you peer outside, you find none other than Naga, bigger and furrier than you remember, panting and pleased, the remains of a successful hunt in her jaws - a trophy she has drug back to show off.

“You did it, Naga! Naga did it!” you holler through the house, throwing open the front door to wrap yourself around her neck, kissing her coat and making sure she knows how much you have missed her and how proud she has made you.  And over the next few days, Naga displays a _lot_ of new skills, now hunting, fishing, and howling almost exactly like a polar bear dog.  Now speaking about and to the tundra, better than you _ever_ will.

 

And when she licks your face before leaving again, you get a little less upset, and instead feel that much luckier, to have Naga as a best friend.

 

* * *

 

The first time you firebend, your parents discover you gawking over a scene of utter destruction.

 

You remember dreaming of catching a fish, and trying to grill the morsel using your fingertips.  And it worked, too.

Too well.

 

You awake with a start to discover your wardrobe set ablaze.  Frenzied, you act to smother the fire. But in your distress, you wind up waterbending Naga by mistake, who immediately _loves_  this new game.  She leaps around playfully, adding to the general pandemonium, while you accidentally earthbend several destructive stones about the room.  And, predictably, each subsequent firefighting attempt results only in more chaos.

Though you do manage to subdue the fire, when your parents round the doorway, they find most of the items in the house damaged, plumes of smoke emitting from anything remotely flammable.

Except your mattress. Which sits in the corner. Fully intact.

 

(Your fathers releases a thankful sigh, while your mom sing-songs something about “motherly intuition.”)

 

* * *

 

Your first time meeting sentries, they arrive already full of doubts.

 

"The White Lotus has honored my family by coming.  Thank you," your father greets.

"Welcome," your mother reinforces.

"We have investigated many claims, both here and in the Northern Water Tribe.  All have turned out to be false."

"Then you should be happy to know your search has come to an end."

"What makes you so sure your daughter is the _one_?"

"Korra, please come in here."

 

Their dismissal is apparent, and _annoying_.  You can tell, already - they don’t believe you, or in your bending.  But, you also realize there stands only a wall between you and your destiny.

 

You absently crack your knuckles and smile.

 

* * *

 

“I find it a bit disconcerting, to keep this sort of information from family.”

 

The first time you meet Unalaq as the Avatar, he arrives unannounced -- which, it is not at all unusual for your family to have unannounced guests, but it is very atypical for that guest to be the Chief -- and his daughters accompany him as usual.

“Imagine my surprise, to learn from a White Lotus messenger that my very own niece is the Avatar.”  He scoffs at the notion. “Perhaps manners are lost on you, Tonraq, but I knew I had to see her at once.”

Kneeling to meet you face-to-face, he clasps his hands around your own.  They are surprisingly cold, for a waterbender. “It is truly an honor to be in your presence, Avatar Korra.”

“Thank you, akkaga.”  

He nods slowly, releasing you and standing.  “You can go back to Eska and Desna, now.”

 

Truth be told, you’ve never really _understood_ the twins.  They aren’t warm, or friendly, and usually only wind up being very frustrating.  Eska likes to boss everyone around, while Desna just follows her lead, making sure to glower at and complain about anything and everything.  But, however uncomfortable your cousins may make you feel, nothing compares to how unsettled you are around your own uncle.

“Isn't it interesting, that the Avatar has reincarnated as _your_ daughter.  Of all people.”  He offers the next comment so softly that you have to really listen to catch it.  “I have my own, living amongst the leadership of the tribes, the same age as Korra, and also capable benders.  What were the odds.”

“Seems you can't win them all,” Senna retorts.

 

The Northerners leave in the morning, and you’ve never felt more proud to be your mother’s Avatar.

 

* * *

 

The first night that your parents don't come home, you find fear creeping in and out of spaces in your house that have never scared you in the past.

 

The knock comes after dark, followed by a great deal of commotion.

“Anuun, what’s wrong?” your mother asks, opening the door, your father now also sitting up.

“I need to speak to you both.   _Now_ ,” he hushes, ushering your parents out, in exchange for White Lotus soldiers that swarm your front door, posting at each window.  They sit, looking very serious. But looking also very worried.

You pet Naga’s fur, her muscles tensing under your hands at the presence of those foreign strangers in your house.  

 

When your parents return, they no longer carry any signs of sleepiness, their eyes wide open.  They quickly dress, your mother only asking Anuun, “Where?”

“Northeast of here.  And not even a quarter moon away, by now.”

“What’s going on?”  You finally squeak out, gripping your blanket.

“Honey,” your father says, hugging you close.  “Your mom and I need to go again. On another rescue mission.”

“Be good and stay here, with the White Lotus.  Okay?  Please?” When your mom asks, her voice is so shaky, and her eyes so tearful, that you can only nod and obey.

“We love you.  So, so, much.”

 

They leave, and the White Lotus guards remain - stationed, unmoving, and silent.

 

Night slowly turns to day, with Naga whining pitifully, curled around you on your bed.  And, for the first time, you aren’t motivated to face the world head-on. You don’t charge out, armed with a fishing spear and bending, ready to take on anything that crosses your path.

Instead, you feel unusually small, and scared.  And you know that - whatever is preventing your parents’ safe return home, whatever it is that is keeping you awake tonight, whatever it is that is happening out _there_ \- is something worthy of your fear.

 

* * *

 

The first time your parents come home defeated, Tonraq appears almost lifeless - like that fish you found once, stranded atop the ice sheet, hardly moving and gasping for air.  His arms almost collapse over you, pulling you into a weak, heavy hug.

 

Your father has returned completely spent before - after battles against strong and sturdy beasts, exhausting his chi and mental stamina for the benefit of the tribe, and you wonder if maybe this is all a result of a major hunt.  But, what truly worries you is that, _this_ time, your mother looks similarly drained.  Even as bender sworn only to heal - a choice she has carefully explained to you - when you see the scratches along her arms, and the bruises on her face, it’s clear she found reason to break her own vow.

“Did you save them?” You ask timidly, not wanting to ask the wrong thing.

“It seems so,” your mother finally responds, reaching out to touch your skin without meeting your eyes.

 

The scene and the tone and the fresh smell of blood makes you nervous.  More nervous than you’ve ever known.

 

“We have to do something,” she urges, now holding you against her.

“I know,” your father whispers.  “I know.”

 

* * *

 

When your mom teaches you your first ceremonial dance, you are only five years old, but picking it up faster than you thought you could.

 

These three days have been confusing, your house full of new bodies and voices and faces, accents you’ve never heard and people you don’t know.  Some are healers, tending to your own parents. (You ask why they don’t fetch Katara, before you learn that she is in need of a healer of her own, which only serves to worry you more.)   But mostly, it’s guards, and lookouts, and warriors. They watch over everything - even the simple moments, like sleeping, playing with Naga, and dancing with your mom. Still, as she sways you both, your head level with her stomach, it marks one of the closest, quietest moments you’ve had in the last days.  It is the moment in which you finally dare to speak about it all.

 

“Why are the centuries around all the time now?”  You stand on your tiptoes, balanced atop her house moccasins, her lightly and inconsistently humming a rhythmic tone.

“Sentries, honey,” she spins you gently, pulling you closer to the stove.  “They are here to protect us.”

You hesitate to ask, almost too scared to know the answer.

“From what?” you whisper.

She catches a bit, thrown off beat, turning and lifting you and your conversation away from the sentries, but at least now she is able to look you in the eye.  Still, the response seems hard for her to say. “We don’t know yet.”

 

You only continue to cling to her silently, letting her carry you, the tune, and the weight of it all.  For just a little while.

 

* * *

 

You knew, in discovering that you were the Avatar, your life might look a little different.  That smashing down the wall between you and the White Lotus was a lot more like blowing out the wall between you and the world - past, present, and future.

You also hoped that becoming the Avatar meant everyone would believe in your ability to protect them, and the world around you all.

What you _never_ imagined was that you’d see your father so scared, or your mother so exhausted, or that your whole world could turn upside down instead of right side up.

 

As the Avatar, you knew everything would change.  But you didn’t know it would be anything quite like this.

 

 

  _Welcome to the Compound._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...surprise! i am in fact not dead yet but i probably should be with how many microwave pizzas i have consumed lately. 
> 
> so no this doesn't stay canon to the Naga comic because nothing about that comic makes sense except how freaking cute little korra and naga look, and if you want to argue the logic of that, take that issue up with God herself (so like, Rihanna, pretty much).
> 
> and also i know this whole compound/splitting families parallels some real ass devastating stuff right now, and writing this out serves as a sort of processing tool for me, but please check in with yourself around these topics and just be safe and know that if you are personally impacted by this violence perpetuated in our world that i am sorry we aren't doing better and that i want you to know that you are loved.
> 
> huge thanks to these three for their input and wisdom and just generally being around to witness and support me as I pull my own hair out over poorly constructed canon plot and character motive, even though I'm so slow and it's a casual 60 years after the finale and they have wayyyyy better things to do. Seriously, thank you from the bottom of my microwave-pizza clotted heart.
> 
>   
>  [SarahDemo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahDemo/pseuds/SarahDemo)  
>  [havuhadanosejob](http://archiveofourown.org/users/havuhadanosejob/pseuds/havuhadanosejob)  
>  [Traeger](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Traeger)  
> 
> 
> (Just in case any poor souls wandered here from my other pile of words and wanted a status update, Calefaction is sort of comatose but like, there's some brain activity showing up and SOMETHING will get posted soon [read as: eventually...])
> 
>  
> 
> And as always, thanks so much for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> if any of this is tone deaf please come yell at me
> 
> http://contronyym.tumblr.com/


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